[Tyr Zalo Hawk]: 712.Random.The Tree And The Door

A tree once stood amongst an expansive field, shading a family of foxes as they escaped the heat of midday. A maple tree. The autumn's approach had triggered the metamorphosis of life to death, light to dark, fire to blood. Red. Redder than the fur of the foxes as they lounged, yawning to settle themselves into their naps. In the breeze a single leaf leapt away from its slow death to fall into a bed strewn with the few of its brothers and sisters who had gone before. Drifting, floating, the leaf careened to the ground in a wild dance before alighting on the ear of a young fox whose natural twitch flicked it away to rest beaneath the tree, finally at peace. There it lay, and does lay. The tree is gone now. Now, there is a doorway. A single door made of maple that been carelessly left ajar by the family of humans now stands where the tree was. The foxes no longer lounge lazily in this spot, nor elsewhere. The human's hands are red with the blood of their meal. One family has replaced another. A door has replaced a tree, and through the door, laying outside alone, is a single crimson leaf who is at peace.


© Tyr Hawkaluk (2004-Present)